Newfound Weapon
by madiamazing
Summary: Christine has discovered a weakness of her seemingly invincible husband, but what will she do when he counterattacks? Fluffy E/C one-shot. 2004 universe.


**This little thing is technically in the same universe as my first fic, No Backward Glances, which was 2004 inspired. If you haven't read NBG, Christine and Erik are married and living together in a home he designed. This event is set before Christine gets pregnant, so pretty early on in their marriage.**

 **This is for my friend and wifey and fellow Gerik hoe, Rea. (phantomoftheoperea on tumblr). :) Here ya go, love!**

* * *

 ** _~Newfound Weapon~_**

The day had been dreadfully hot.

Christine could not bear to do more than lounge on the sofa in the sitting room with the windows wide open, reading a novel all day. Their housekeeper, Adele, had taken the weekend off, and Christine felt awful watching Erik run around getting the chores done. She would have offered to do them herself, but she had woken that morning with menstrual pains and knew all of the movement would only make her faint or sick.

The air finally began to cool a bit after sunset, but Christine could tell that Erik was unable to relax enough to cool down himself. Every few moments during dinner he would huff in frustration and dab his napkin on the unmasked side of his face, absorbing the sweat there. He would even pinch the front of his loose white dress shirt and pull fast, back and forth in an attempt to air it out, to which Christine would have to hide her smile. Her poor Erik.

After they each finished, Erik got up and began gathering the dishes. Christine rose and went to his side, grabbing his hand softly. Their eyes met, and his blazing oceanic orbs instantly softened.

"Leave it," she said, using her free hand to caress his face. Sighing, he leaned into her touch, his eyes slipping closed for a moment. "I will clean up. Go cool off, my love."

"You are too good to me," he murmured, placing a chaste kiss on her mouth and then striding from the room. Her cheeks were pink as she cleared the table, wondering if the affect he had on her would ever lessen. Even the tiniest of kisses sent her stomach fluttering, her heart racing. Would he always hold so much power over her?

Finished cleaning up, Christine made her way upstairs and giggled upon entering their dimly lit bedroom. There Erik was, sprawled out on the bed rather ungracefully with no shirt, mask, or wig, his hands behind his head. The balcony doors were wide open, letting in a nice, cool breeze. Her eyes focused on his face, and she saw his eyes narrow at her laughter.

"What is funny, my dear?" His tone was dangerous, and her mouth clamped shut. She shook her head, and stepped behind the dressing screen to dress for bed. She knew he was not comfortable being so exposed, and if he were not so hot he would likely still be wearing his shirt and mask, so she should not push him. The last thing she wanted was to make him insecure when they had made so much progress over the short months they had been married.

She nearly sang in relief once freed from her heavy clothing and dressed in her thin white nightgown, and she let her hair down from its pinned style and nearly skipped into bed, her dark curls bouncing around her face. Erik looked confused at her cheerfulness, but seemed to shrug it off and close his eyes in relaxation. She sat facing him with her legs pulled to her chest, her arms wrapped around them.

Erik shirtless was a sight to be seen. Christine gazed dreamily at him, the rise and fall of his tight, muscled chest nearly hypnotizing. She always felt ashamed when she admired his body like this, at what it made her feel, but could never seem to find the strength to stop. She marveled at his hard, chiseled torso, at his flexed shoulders and the little dips of his abdomen.

Absentmindedly, she reached out to touch him.

With a light trailing of fingers, she explored his upper body, careful not to use her fingernails as she ran her hands along him. His skin was hard but smooth, and her hand seemed to tremble and grow warmer the longer it made contact with him. Her lips parted, a gust of air escaping her mouth as she felt his stomach flex beneath her touch. She snuck a glance at him, and froze when she found his scorching eyes open and fixed on her, his expression unfathomable.

The next thing she knew, Christine was being pulled atop him, and his hands tangled in her hair as their lips met. He kissed her softly, sweetly in a way that made her heart flutter and her head feel all light and airy. But then he deepened the kiss, his lips parting and his tongue seeking entrance to explore her mouth. It was searing, and Christine was the one who was suddenly too hot.

Her trembling hands continued to trail along his sides as they kissed, and when Erik began to stiffen and then squirm under her touch, she pulled away to question him with concerned eyes.

"What is wrong, my love?" she rasped when she saw the slight confusion on his face, and he shook his head.

"Ah…it is nothing, Christine. Kiss me," he demanded huskily, and she emitted a low moan as their lips met again. They kissed more urgently, and her hands weren't as gentle as before when they ran along his sides. Erik reacted again with that same squirming, except this time he broke their kiss with a sort of gasping… _giggle_?

She sat up atop him, gazing down at his face with wide-eyed shock. Did her husband really just giggle? Or was it her imagination? The sort of embarrassed horror in his eyes answered her unspoken question, and she looked down at where her hands were, on his lower sides.

Christine gaped at the realization. Her ever intimidating, powerful, seemingly invincible husband was, indeed, _ticklish._ Experimentally, she dug her fingers into his ribs, and he nearly _squealed_ with laughter as he stiffened and moved beneath her.

"Christine," he gasped in between giggles, "Stop! What…are y-you doing?!" She was relentless, tickling him and enjoying every ounce of his helplessness, of the confused shock in his eyes and the musical laughter he emitted. She grinned and even laughed herself, unable to hold back her glee at the power she now held over him.

"Looks like someone is ticklish," she sang, digging her fingers harder into his ribs until he howled with laughter and nearly bucked her off of him. She nearly died laughing when he actually _shrieked_ when she hit a certain spot. She'd never seen Erik like this before, and it was so adorable that she never wanted to stop. She tickled and tickled him, until finally, he'd had enough.

"I…can not…Christine!" he suddenly yelled, his voice gravely with anger, and she finally stopped, her smile fading. He lied there gasping, burying the ruined side of his face into the pillow, and she stroked his sparse bronze hair to try to get him to look at her.

"Erik…? I am…oh, Erik, I did not mean to…I am sorry."

After a long stretch of silence, Erik slowly turned his head, and his blazing eyes held a wicked glint as they bore into hers. He grinned then, and her heartbeat quickened as he told her through clenched teeth, "Oh, my dear, you will be."

Christine squeaked in excited terror as he threw her off of him and down onto her back, and his hands didn't hesitate in their attack on her sides. She fought him with every ounce of strength she had, but his tickling hands paralyzed her to the point where all she could do was scream with laughter and squirm uncontrollably.

She tried kicking him, and he responded by straddling her thighs so that they were trapped underneath his sturdy weight. He chuckled and tickled her harder, and she yelled and begged him to stop.

"You wicked girl," he growled through his evil grin. "This is what you get, Christine!"

"Erik, please!" she screamed through her breathless giggles, trying with all her might to push his hands off of her, and nearly sobbing when they wouldn't budge. "I am sorry! Please!"

"Hmm," he pretended to ponder, not ceasing in his torture. "Will you promise to be a good girl and not tickle your loving, doting husband ever again?"

"Yes, yes! I promise! Erik, please!"

"I don't know if I believe you, my dear!"

"I promise, Erik!" she cried. "Please!"

After what seemed like an eternity, Erik stopped. Both of them breathing heavily, their eyes met and they each laughed breathlessly some more before Erik collapsed down next to her. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her to him, and she laid her head down on his chest.

When both of their breathing returned to a normal level, Christine tilted her head up to kiss Erik again.

"My husband is ticklish," she teased, and a low growl rumbled deep in his chest.

"That may be so," he rasped between kisses. "But so is my wife. And much more so than me, I might add." There was an unmistakable warning in his tone, and Christine giggled against his lips.

"Oh, _sure_ I am, Erik."

"You are a wicked girl. You know that?" His voice was tinged with warmth, and her heart gave a gentle squeeze.

"Mmm," she hummed as they kissed, and later, when she snuggled into him to fall asleep, there was but one thought on her mind.

She had lied when she made her promise. In fact, she was already planning her next attack with her newfound weapon.

Christine was _definitely_ going to be tickling Erik again, soon.


End file.
